Into The Light Of the Dark Black Night
by Fan of Mikey
Summary: 8 nonconnected drabbles written for various challenges, slight mm within


**Title:**Into The Light Of the Dark Black Night  
**Rating:** g-pg13  
**Char/Pair:** Harry Potter, Severus Snape, Arthur Weasley, Lucius Malfoy, Hermione Granger, Rubeus Hagrid, Remus Lupin, others  
**Warnings:** Slash (mxm), tho veryvery mild 

**i** - Mess

His life had become something that wasn't his own anymore. He had always had someone he needed to answer to, sure. Uncle Vernon or Aunt Petunia, Dumbledore, even Snape. But his life had always been his, he'd always been in control of what he wanted to do. And now suddenly it was in the hands of someone else, the hands of a monster. An Unforgivable used without uttering the words aloud, without pointing the twin to his wand in his direction. Voldemort was defeated, has been for months now, but he has left Harry with nothing but a shattered mess of a life.

**ii** - Dolls

She was never into the same things as the other little girls; sleepovers, tea parties and imaginary friends. She was book smart, practical. No worse, no better, just different. And there was nothing wrong with different, her parents kept saying. And she believed them. She had to. And when she went to Hogwarts she still believed them, there would be no other way for her to fit into the crowd, with her wild hair and her intellect. But she was wrong. She wasn't the only one there who was smart, who didn't play with dolls when she was a child. What made her different now was what had made her normal.

**iii** - Skin

It's a shame to mark it up, you think, this skin that is so much like porcelain, something fragile, but that doesn't stop you and neither does the wince that crosses his features when you tug the ropes just a little bit tighter. You can already see red forming, circling his wrist where the rope leaves burns and you fight to keep your arms at your sides. You're not allowed to play, not allowed to touch, no more than what it takes to get him settled. And it's a shame, you think, this skin that is so much like porcelain, something that you can scratch and bite and _claim_ is going to be wasted and you don't even get a taste.

**iv** - Needle

It's such a Muggle thing, you're even in a little Muggle shop, and you feel ridiculous lying there with your shirt rucked up to your shoulders, but it wouldn't hold the same meaning, _wouldn't hurt as bad_, if you did it the Wizard way. The pain will help you remember, and it does every time the needle touches you, forces more ink under your skin. You remember laughing and playing and transforming not only as your Animagus but from boys to men, friends to. More. It's such a small thing, no bigger than a Galleon, but it's there, and every time you look at it you'll see him. That little paw print will help you remember.

**v** - Pillow

There's no need for silencing charms this far out in the country, there isn't a house for miles and nobody would come to investigate anyway. They're all afraid to leave their homes at night now, and you're proud of that. You had a hand in it. And it's better this way, having him spread out before you like this, skin flushed, thin layer of sweat the only thing between you. Yeah it's nice. You like to hear him, when you crook your finger _right there_, like to see his head thrash wildly, fiery hair splayed across the pillow. He's yours, all yours. You can hear it when he screams.

**vi** - It's not a secret

You realize now that Dumbledore knew. He knew _everything_. All those times you crept away from your dorm, all those times you lied. There was no need for secrets, no need to keep everything that was running through your head to yourself, because he was there and he knew and he would have listened. He's gone now. He's gone now and there isn't anyone who comes close to knowing what you have gone through, what you're going to go through. This fight isn't over, and no matter how many people you have on your side, you'll be going down alone. Dumbledore knew that too.

**vii** - Ugly

You flock to them, take pity on them, _take care of them_ because they're just like you. Outcasts of their pack, their clan. Outcasts of society. They're all beautiful creatures, to you, everything you wish you could be. Wings to fly away on, fire to beat those who put you down for what you are. You don't really matter to anyone anymore, so you make yourself matter to these beasts, these beings that people call monsters and run screaming from. You want nothing more than to be loved, just like them. But no one can see past what you aren't to see what you are.

**viii** - Shapeshifting

They thought they were so clever, shifting, changing into things they weren't supposed to, walking about the school like they owned it, noses in the air, exchanging secretive glances like nobody knew and _smile wide because we're getting away with it_. But he knew. He knew, and they weren't the only ones.

He hadn't quite gotten it right yet, the bones cracking as the change took place still made him wince, nauseous. He'd get it soon enough, though. Laughter dying to caws of delight and soar, his black wings shining in the full moon light as he follows into Hogsmeade.


End file.
